ARGanoid's comedy page: the dregs
Here are some old short stories/sketches that I wrote when I was a teenager. The ones on this page are the dregs, relegated from the main comedy page due to their poor quality.
(In a doctors surgery) Man: Doctor, it's my arm. Doctor: It's very swollen. Do you have any idea of what's wrong with it? Man: I think it's pregnant. Doctor: What? Man: My arm. It's pregnant. Doctor: Don't be stupid, it's your arm. How can it be pregnant? Man: I was hoping you could tell me that. (The doctor gets a stethoscope and listens to the man's arm) Doctor: Great scott! I can hear a heartbeat! Man: There you go, then. Doctor: Do you have any idea of how this could have happened? Man: Well, it's been like this for a few months. It must have been conceived around then. Doctor: Are you human? Man: I beg your pardon? Doctor: Well, I saw this film where these aliens had their wombs in their ears. Man: I don't think I'm one of them. Doctor: Then there must be a perfectly reasonable explaination. Are you some kind of masochistic pervert, by any chance? Man: Not last time I checked. Doctor: What kind of things were you doing a few months ago? Didn't you come to see me about something? Man: Yes, I remember. I had a cold, and you suggested that I got vaccinated. Doctor: (Coughs). Erm, yes, I did, didn't I? (He looks into the corner of the room, where seven empty bottles of vodka are in the bin). Quite. Man: It's amazing the things modern technology can do. I never knew you could get vaccinated against colds. Doctor: Um, yes, it's quite remarkable, isn't it? Did it work? Man: Yes, my cold disappeared after about three days. Doctor: And which room did you get the vaccination in? Man: It was room 371, if I remember correctly. Doctor: (Thinks: Oh no! Not room 371! Not the fertility treatment room!) What happened when you went in the room? Man: There was nobody in there. Doctor: NHS cuts. Man: There was a needle thing on the side. I assumed it had the cold vaccine in it. Doctor: And where did you inject the contents into yourself? Man: In the arm. Doctor: The pregnant one? Man: Yes. Do you know what's wrong? Doctor: Well, I've got some good news and some bad news. The good news: you will soon be the father of a little boy. The bad news: I will also be his father. Man: WHAT? Doctor: NHS cuts. We can only afford to put the chromosomes of the doctors into the banks. DIY fertility treatment. Man: So you're the father of my child? Doctor: Yes. And I demand full visiting rights. Man: Well, you can't have them. Doctor: I'll take you to court. I won't let you keep my little Zachariah away from me. Man: Zachariah? I'm going to call him Hurbert. Doctor: You're bloody well not. Man: You try and stop me, er, mate... Doctor: You fancy your chances, pal? Man: Wait! He just kicked! Doctor: Aaaaaahhhh! Man: Hellooowowowowoww, little Herbie Werbie! Doctor: Zachie Wachie, you mean. Man: Sod off. Doctor: I wouldn't annoy me too much if I were you. You're very vunerable. One little bash on that arm... Man: You wouldn't... Doctor: Hahahahahhahahahaaaaaaaaaaa! Not to be continued...
(In Santa's grotto) Santa: Ho ho ho. And what would you like to be when you grow up, little boy? Boy: I want to be a fighter pilot. Santa: Then I will grant your wish! At your funeral you will be remembered as the greatest fighter pilot who ever lived! Eighty years later... Santa's son: We are here to remember Fred, the greatest fighter pilot who ever lived. Man: What are you talking about? He wasn't a fighter pilot. Son: We must remember him as one. Man: Why? He was an estate agent. Son: Because if you don't I will ram red hot pokers up your bottoms. Man: I remember now, he was a brilliant fighter pilot, wasn't he? And so the boy's wish came true...
Man walks into a room, where his toddler child has just painted a picture. Man looks at picture, which has a big blobby stick figure in lurid colours, with the word 'daddy' underneath. Man: I don't look like that, you little bastard! You're trying to undermine my authority with propaganda like this, etc, etc...
This is a parody of the help files of Microsoft Quick C, which attempt to teach you one simple command by listing a massive, stupidly complex program...
/* PRINTF.C illustrates wormholes. Functions illustrated include: * scanf printf fflush * * For other examples of wormholes, see Star Trek: Deep Space Nine * and DirectX 2.0 */ time_t main (int argc, char *argv) { struct xcv_strct { enum *f_posit; long double double_long; } union { struct xcv_strct qpow_e; char ****pointer_world [0xB0110C5]; } v; if (x++ >= *(printf ("1101110101110", *pa_s(s)) & 1) scanf ("%d$$$.x", &(ptr+*(e=mc2))); if (&argv+1 ? v.qpow_e.f_posit : 12.09997) fflush (_BIOS_RUBBISHLANGUAGE_FLUSHTHINGS++); }
Oprah: Today we talk to psychotic serial killers who ate their own parents with only orange juice to take the taste away. (Woman in the audience stands up) Woman: Ah believe that the constitooshun of the Youunaated Stayts of Uhmericah should let these poor men walk free on the streets withaht the maydiah haanding them all the tahm. Oprah: First, we speak to this man here, Mr Lincton. You were the one who ate his parents with orange juice. Mr Lincton: That's raaaaaht. Oprah: Are you some kind of insane psychopath? How could you do that? Orange juice? That's no way to say goodbye! Why didn't you have wine or champagne? Woman in the audience: Ah think you're naht being fair on hiym. (Everyone claps). He maht naht be able to afford wahn. (Everyone claps again) Oprah: What did your parents taste like? Mr Lincton: They were goddamn tough, gurhl, you know what ahm sayin'? Oprah: Which one tasted better, your mahm or your paaahp? Mr Lincton: The goddamn bitch, she was succ-u-luhnt. Audience: Oooohh! Oprah: What do you think, sir? Man in audience: Ah think that mayahn should dah a harrabahl and paynfahl dayath. He should be ripped to pieces bah mahsive lahns and tahguhrs. (Everyone claps wildly) Oprah: Surely that is cruel? Man: If ah wuhr the Prehsidehnt, ah would mahke sure that he was totally daehd. Oprah: Well, we've got to leave it there. Tomorrow, we talk to homosexual ninja monkeys from the planet Neptune.
Pisces: You may meet an interesting rhinoceros who will try to comfort you. Hit him with a large mallet. Sagittarius: Avoid the ground. Jupiter may influence you to buy some new cutlery - stainless steel, preferably. Aquarius: You don't know which way to turn for help. How about sixty degrees left? Gemini: It's time to make some serious decisions. The influence of Pluto on Uranus signifies that you should think about getting something done about your piles. Aries: You are going to meet a tall, dark stranger. Unfortunately he's holding a large gun. Run for it! Leo: Financial constraints will be a major influence on your decisions. Blah, blah, mystic forces, intervening of the planets and all that bollocks. Virgo: You're feeling exasperated, whatever that means. Try killing someone. Your love life is about to take a turn for the better. (Not. We just said that to try and cheer you up). Libra: Beware of the dog. Unless, of course, it's a small Labrador, as they're quite friendly actually. If attacked by any exploding giraffes, consider taking less LSD. Scorpio: You're at a turning point in your life. Everything is becoming clear. WARNING: Do not eat any cornflakes - they may exacerbate that alarming growth. Don't try to deny it - you know the one we're talking about. Cancer: Someone... with the initial 'm'.... and a red tie... will be winning... a big priieieieze... Taurus: Feel like your life is just going round and round in circles? You need to let out the huge energies you've been keeping inside you. Try not to explode too violently. Capricorn: Mind the gap. Mind the gap. This train will be stopping at: Upwey, Dorchester South, Wareham, Wool, Hamworthy, Poole, Bournemouth, Brockenhurst, Southampton Central, Southampton Airport Parkway, Winchester and London Waterloo. Estimated time arrival at London is 1700 hours. (Sound of someone sneezing). Ophicuhus: You obviously don't believe in all this horoscope stuff, or you wouldn't be reading this entry. Just don't try to spread your views, or you may meet a psycho with an axe. You have been warned.Go back to the ARGnet index...
Copyright 1997-2010 Andrew R. Gillett